


“Time and time again I tell myself I’ll stay clean tonight.”

by caitastrophe8499



Series: Lost in Streams of Sound [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 10:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitastrophe8499/pseuds/caitastrophe8499
Summary: Another Bowie lyric bit. Angsty and a bit dark. See warnings.





	“Time and time again I tell myself I’ll stay clean tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Series Title: Lost in Streams of Sound  
> Lyrics from “Ashes to Ashes,” by David Bowie.

 

Leonard wasn’t sure when it had gotten dark.

He’d been sitting in the chair for so long that he didn’t see the shadows as they elongated, swallowing up the quiet bedroom, inching up his legs until they covered him completely.

He wouldn’t go tonight.

The silent room mocked him, staring back at him, the bare headboard a headstone. He hadn’t slept there in weeks, preferring instead the aches and pains of sleeping in the chair than sleeping there.

Reaching for the glass next to him, he was irritated to find that it was empty. Getting up to refill it put him closer to the door. Which put him closer to what he said he wouldn’t do.

He wouldn’t go tonight.

He got to his feet, half-stumbling on legs numb from disuse. He’d just gotten up a few hours ago. Though, glancing at the clock in the hallway, it was more like six. The stairwell was dark and each step was a different height, but he didn’t hesitate. He knew the steps by heart - he’d designed it, after all.

The kitchen was an open, airy room, even in the all-consuming shadows. It seemed nearly endless, threatening to catch him and keep him there. If only it worked.

Reaching for the bottle left on the counter, he frowned when he realized it was also empty. The cupboards were bare of anything else to numb him, leaving him staring at the empty bottle, next to the empty glass, in the empty house.

He wouldn’t go tonight.

Though he knew where they’d be. He always knew where they’d be. And tonight, they’d be here.

He wouldn’t…

He had to.

A long coat hung in the closet and Leonard pulled it on with only slight pain. Old scars that still pulled. New wounds that hadn’t healed. He wasn’t used to the emptiness, but he was used to the pain by now. At this point, he’d almost mourn it if it stopped.

The night was quiet, the chill settling into his bones with far more fervor than it used to. Instead of the numbness the ice used to bring him, now it was just more pain. Pins and needles digging into his skin. The black jacket he used to wear now hung in the back of the closet, too thin to keep him warm any longer. There was the weight of a knife in his belt, but no cold gun. He’d hung that up with the jacket.

The path that should have just been a memory was instead fresh in his mind. He’d made this trip just last night. And the night before that. And the night before that. They didn’t know - how could they?  - but he hung in the shadows just the same.

The warehouse looked just like it had the last time he’d been dropped off. The too large, too empty space in front of it was so obviously inconspicuous that it was amazing they hadn’t been caught yet. Leonard waited in the darkness, hoping - dreading - that he’d see what he wanted. What he hated to want. What he didn’t want to want any longer, but knew he would for the rest of his miserable life.

Then, exactly what he wanted appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Gold and blue and white, alighting into the darkness with an ease that screamed comfort even as it lightened everything around.

Sara Lance smiled and Leonard stared greedily at the sight.

He watched her inhale and stretch before a muffled sound from inside drew her attention back to the void that was the  _ Waverider _ . Of course, the owner followed her out, swagger in place as he fell into step beside her.

Leonard followed them with his eyes, hating and relishing every painful second. He didn’t deserve to walk beside her, no one did, but especially not  _ him _ . When they started down the street, he followed them with his steps, clinging to the shadows.

They walked down the quiet street, almost everything closed, but their chatter never faltered, easy camaraderie creating comfortable conversation.

And Leonard followed them. He knew that if Sara was aware of what he was doing, she’d be pissed at him. She’d told him never to do this, never to follow her. To live his own life. He’d agreed at the time; what choice did he have? But he knew that this was his life. Her. Sara was his life. How could he just give up on that? How could she ask him to do that?

They led him to a bar, the usual. He never went in - she’d spot him in a second if he did. Instead, he waited outside, listening to the pounding music, the sounds of shouting, and what would inevitably turn into a fight. He remembered what it was like to sit and drink with her at her side. Now, he was some trailing phantom behind her. Unable to move on. Unable to let go. Invariably caught.

He leaned on the alley wall, his eyes half-closed.

“Len?”

He snapped up, turning to face the back door of the bar, the heavy, rusted metal creaking closed as Sara stepped into the alley.

He swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. Sara came closer, her eyes sweeping over him. What was she noticing? The bags under his eyes, the wrinkles in his usually fine clothes, the shadows on his face?

She was in front of him, close enough to touch, but he kept his arms at his sides, despite the struggle it was for him. He could smell her perfume, the smell that had almost faded from the pillows.

“Len,” she said with more confidence. “What are you doing?”

He managed a pained shrug. “Wandering.”

“What happened?”

Leonard spread his arms wide, an angry smirk on his face, “What do you think, birdy?”

Her small hand gripped his forearm and all his anger faded away immediately. “I’m so sorry.”

“Happens to all of us, eventually.”

She nodded once, but didn’t let go of him. Her eyes tightened as she continued to stare at him. “This isn’t the first time you’ve followed me.”

It wasn’t a question.

“You shouldn’t do that,” she whispered.

“Time and time again I tell myself I’ll stay clean tonight.” He shrugged, but didn’t dislodge her hand. “But, here I am.”

“Len…”

The door opened again and now she did drop her hand, turning to face the man who stood in the entryway.

“What’s going on?” the man asked, stepping to the side to see Leonard.

And Leonard stared into his younger face, wondering how long it had been since he resembled that man.

Nowhere on him could he see the deep lines and pitted memories. The shuttered look was still there, not open and laid bare for all to see. He stood tall and straight, the lounge a ruse until he was confident in his surroundings, and he was confident as he stood next to Sara. Too confident. Too sure that what they had was safe. Forgetting that nothing in his life had ever been safe.

Then there was him. The old man. The gray hair and sunken eyes. The weathered skin. Strange to think he thought himself old ten years ago. It was nothing to how he felt now.

Younger Leonard took it all in, then just asked one simple thing. “Sara?”

A shake of his head was all Leonard could manage.

“How long did you have?” Sara asked him.

“Eight years. Shorter than we wanted.”

Younger Leonard took Sara’s hand tightly. They both wanted to ask, but they knew the dangers of knowing too much of their future.

“How long has it been since?” Leonard asked.

“Three months.”

“And you’ve been following me every time we’ve landed here since then?” Sara asked.

Leonard didn’t bother to answer. It was obvious.

“You can’t do this again. No more, Len.”

He nodded. He knew that. “Right.”

Taking one last look at her, Leonard fixed the image of her in his mind. Happy, beautiful, warmth and light, everything that was missing from the house. “Goodbye, birdy.” If it was possible, this hurt nearly as badly as the first time he lost her.

He turned to go, but she stopped him, her hand on his arm and turning him. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, old wounds complained but it was drowned out by the rightness of having her back in his arms. He held her as closely as he could, the way she should always be, full of life and wonder and goodness, not like the last time he’d held his Sara - bloodied and cold and so still-

When she let go, he knew there were tears in his eyes, but he didn’t care. For a moment, he’d had her back and now she was leaving again.

“Goodbye, crook.”

Younger Leonard stared at him for a long moment before he followed Sara back into the bar.

“You should change it,” he called after them.

Younger Leonard turned, his eyes wary. “Change what?”

“November 22nd. Change it. Save her.”

His younger self straightened, a fervor in his eyes that Leonard hadn’t seen in the mirror for a long time. “November 22nd,” he repeated.

“Please.” He turned and left before the two of them entered the bar, heading home, just like she’d said. No more.

The empty house seemed bigger, the absence of light more obvious now. He returned to the bedroom, staring down at the bed he’d shared with Sara for those too short years.

He was tired. More than just needing a good night’s sleep. He was tired in his very soul. He was tired of chasing her down. Tired of not having her around. Tired of knowing that he hadn’t saved her. Just...tired.

“No more,” he muttered, sitting on the bed for the first time since her death. “No more.”

He was done.


End file.
